Harlequin Romance Bundle: Crowns and Cowboys

by Judy Christenberry

  Her eyelids were so heavy. And her arms and legs were heavy. Everything heavy and she was so, so sleepy.

  ‘Marianne?’

  She heard him say her name as though it was muffled.

  ‘Sweetheart, come on.’

  Marianne knew that she ought to answer. Say something to him. But she was so tired.

  ‘Let’s get you to bed.’

  She felt him pull her jumper over her head and tried to be helpful. Then he picked her up and she felt as if she were flying.

  Seb laid Marianne on his bed and stepped back to look at her. Her fine blonde hair was splayed out across his pillow, her fingers still loosely clutching his handkerchief. The whisky and the past had hit her with a vengeance.

  He laid her jumper at the end of the bed and wondered whether he should do anything to make her more comfortable, though she looked peaceful enough. Maybe her shoes? Seb eased off both flat pumps without her stirring, then walked across to his dressing room to fetch a light duvet.

  No wonder she hated him. His opinion of himself had taken a dive. She’d been eighteen and a virgin when he’d met her.

  Seb walked back through to his bedroom, opened out the duvet and spread it across the top of her. Then he lightly brushed her hair off her face. Every instinct he had was urging him to lie down beside her, but he didn’t have the right to do that.

  She’d told him she didn’t want him to kiss her. That she couldn’t allow him to hurt her again. That single phrase would probably stay with him for ever. He’d never wanted to hurt her. Never. But what he’d done could have destroyed her.

  And what if Jessica had lived? Their daughter? Seb ran a hand across his chin. He didn’t honestly know the answer to that. He liked to think it would have given him the moral courage to stand his ground. Marry her anyway. However unhappy, his father would never have objected so strongly that he’d have seen the crown pass to anyone other than his son.

  But…

  At nineteen he hadn’t had the confidence to challenge the accepted way of doing things. He’d been brought up to believe that with great blessings there came great responsibilities. Marrying someone who had the background and training to become the princess of Andovaria was his God-given responsibility.

  He’d married Amelie. Because everyone around him had said it was the right thing to do. The best thing for Andovaria.

  But everyone had been wrong. The constitutional crisis they’d feared would happen if he’d married Marianne had happened anyway.

  Seb looked down at Marianne sleeping peacefully. He’d loved to watch her sleeping—the slow rise and fall of her breasts, her softly parted lips and the tiny murmur she made as she rolled over. He walked over to dim the lights and walked back out to the sitting room. It seemed intrusive to watch her now.

  Damn, but his head ached.

  On the rare occasions when he’d allowed himself to think about Marianne he’d thought about her in terms of something he’d had to give up. He’d not really thought about the consequences his decision would have had on her life. There were no acceptable excuses for that.

  Seb lay down on the sofa and let his head lean back on the armrest. She’d said she’d hated him then. She must have—but still she hadn’t sold her story to the papers. Told no one it seemed. Even though she’d hated him…

  And they’d made a baby together. Seb drew his hand across his face again, feeling the stubble on his chin. Dear God, if he’d known about her pregnancy, would he still have let her down?

  Seb pulled his hand across his face again. He’d left Marianne alone. He should have been there to comfort her when their baby died. At the very least he should have made sure she could contact him if…

  He swore softly. He’d never dreamt Marianne might be pregnant. They’d been so careful. Every time. Except the first time.

  Not that time because their hormones had overtaken them and they were lovers before they’d known it was a possibility they might be.

  Seb pulled himself to his feet and paced about the room restlessly. He couldn’t bear thinking of how she must have felt when she saw the pictures of his engagement to Amelie. How betrayed.

  But what should he do now? What did he want now? By kissing her in view of the security cameras he’d forced himself to make a decision. Marianne would be looked on by his staff as either his girlfriend and their potential princess, or as his lover. There was no middle ground.

  Seb walked over to the drinks table and poured himself a second whisky, much larger than the first. Things had changed in the last decade. Crown Prince Frederik of Denmark had married for love. As had Crown Prince Felipe of Spain and Crown Prince Haakon of Norway. In fact, Haakon had married a single mother called Mette-Marit and the whole country had rejoiced with them.

  A relationship with Marianne was now possible in a way that it simply hadn’t been ten years ago.

  He sat back down on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees with his glass cradled between his hands. And it was his decision entirely now. No one had to sanction or ratify his marriage.

  But what he couldn’t do was make a second mistake. The end of his marriage was still a contentious issue with many even though it had been annulled on the grounds that it ‘never was a marriage’. If there’d been children it would probably have been impossible for them to separate without doing irreparable damage to the monarchy.

  He had to be sure that his next bride would be able to fulfil her role as his consort. She’d have to learn the Alemannic dialect favoured in his principality. Embrace the Lutheran religion of his country, publicly at least. Forgo the rights to her children in the event of marriage breakdown…

  Difficult, very difficult things to ask of a modern career woman who hadn’t been brought up to expect these demands.

  But not impossible. Not if she loved him enough.

  Seb stood up and pushed open the door of his bedroom and looked at Marianne. Still asleep. He didn’t know whether she’d want those things. Whether he’d hurt her so deeply she’d never be able to forgive him.

  He still wasn’t even sure what he wanted from their relationship. People changed a lot in ten years. He’d changed. Marianne would have too.

  But what he did know was that he didn’t want her to walk out of his life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MARIANNE opened her eyes and knew immediately that she wasn’t where she should be. Everything about the enormous bedroom was unfamiliar and it didn’t take many more moments to realise where she must be.

  She groaned and put her hands over her eyes as though it would block out the reality of it. There were voices in the next door room, too—which must have been what had woken her. Marianne lay quietly, trying to make out what was being said, scarcely daring to move in case she drew attention to herself. Being discovered in Seb’s bed, albeit fully clothed, was going to be a hundred times worse than being caught on a security camera kissing him.

  Because she had kissed him. She remembered that. And she remembered how difficult it had been to tell him she couldn’t let him hurt her again. Even harder to explain the reason why.

  A tiny rap on the door and Seb’s voice startled her. ‘Breakfast.’

  Breakfast?

  Marianne sat up in bed and clutched at the duvet.

  ‘Marianne?’

  It was one of those moments when she wondered whether the best course of action would be to lie back down and put a pillow over her head, but as the door began to open the ostrich manoeuvre was obviously no longer an option.

  Seb stood in the doorway, still in the clothes he’d worn last night, looking completely relaxed and unbelievably sexy with the dark stubble on his chin. A real ‘morning-after-the-night-before’ look. ‘Breakfast is on its way.’

  ‘F-for me?’

  ‘Of course for you. What do you want to drink? Tea or coffee?’

  Marianne tried to think, but it was difficult. This whole experience had all the bizarre elements of a nightmare. She wasn’t even quite sure how s
he came to be here. Not entirely. She remembered the whisky and the crying…and the way Seb had held her…

  She brushed her hair out of her eyes.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Eight.’ He walked across and sat on the edge of her bed. His bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Fine.’ Marianne swallowed. Having him sit so close to her made her entire nervous system feel as if it was dancing. She tucked her hair behind her ears and struggled to appear as though unexpectedly waking in a gorgeous man’s bed was something she could take in her stride. ‘I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Did I?’

  For a moment he looked as if he might reach out and touch her and her stomach rolled over in fear and excitement. ‘You went out like a light.’

  ‘Wh-where did you sleep?’

  ‘On the sofa.’

  He’d slept on the sofa? Grief, but this was embarrassing. Six feet three inches of athletic male squeezed on a small sofa simply because she couldn’t hold her alcohol or manage her emotions. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. That was quite a conversation. Come and have some breakfast.’ He stood up and walked back towards the door, stopping to ask again, ‘Tea or coffee?’

  Marianne was left feeling slightly open-mouthed. How could he say ‘That was quite a conversation’ and ‘Come and have some breakfast’ in the same breath? Last night she’d told him they’d created a baby together and that their baby had died. Didn’t he have anything to say about that?

  ‘Marianne?’

  ‘Tea.’ She blinked hard. ‘I’ll have tea.’

  Seb nodded and shut the door. Marianne flung back the duvet, setting her bare feet down on the thick carpet. The sooner she got herself out of here and back where she ought to be the better.

  She’d always be glad she’d told him about Jessica—and, in a curious way, she felt that some of the burden of it had been lifted. But she wished she hadn’t cried all over him. And she really wished she hadn’t fallen asleep up here. That was just embarrassing.

  Marianne put a hand to her head and groaned silently as she thought a little more about it. He must have carried her into his bedroom because she sure as hell couldn’t remember walking there.

  She padded round the other side of the bed and swore as she banged her shin on the edge of it. If she could just find her shoes…

  She’d got no recollection of having taken them off, which must mean Seb had done that too. Thank goodness he’d stopped at her shoes. If she’d woken up in nothing but her lacy knickers she’d have died of mortification.

  But she still needed to ask him where he’d put them. They were nowhere she could see.

  Marianne ran urgent fingers through her hair and smoothed out her long cotton skirt, then stood with her hand on the door handle for a moment while she tried to whip up the courage to walk out there.

  Just do it. How difficult could it be? Seb clearly wasn’t uncomfortable with her being here, so she just had to walk out there and ask him where he’d put her shoes.

  The sooner she did it, the sooner she could escape back to the guest wing—hopefully before too many of the castle security staff were out and about.

  She pushed open the door.

  Seb looked up from the newspaper he was reading and smiled at her.

  Oh, God. Why did this feel so difficult? And why did he have to look so sexy in the morning? ‘I can’t seem to find my shoes,’ she mumbled.

  ‘I might have left them in the dressing room when I went to get myself a duvet last night. Come and have your tea, it’s getting cold.’

  Marianne looked over her shoulder in the hope she’d see where his dressing room was located. ‘Sh-shouldn’t I hurry away before anyone knows I’m here?’

  ‘Why?’

  Why? It all seemed perfectly clear to her. ‘Because someone will see me.’

  ‘The paparazzi have never managed to get a photograph of me here. Poltenbrunn Castle is quite private—’

  ‘Apart from the cameras and the security guards,’ she slipped in drily.

  ‘Apart from that,’ Seb agreed, a glint of humour lighting his dark eyes. ‘Come and drink your tea.’

  He was sitting at a small table next to open French doors. Last night she hadn’t noticed either the doors or the table. She padded across the luxurious and totally impractical cream carpet. Without her shoes she felt at a complete disadvantage. ‘D-do you always have breakfast here?’

  ‘Usually.’

  As she sat down he folded up his newspaper and put it to one side. And she wished he hadn’t. It made this whole breakfast thing feel intimate and she didn’t think she could cope with that.

  She didn’t want to be ‘intimate’. The whole point of telling him about Jessica was to make sure he understood why she couldn’t give in to…whatever it was that kept flaring between them. And to make sure he let her walk away easily, with her self-respect intact—and preferably without the entire staff of Poltenbrunn Castle whispering behind their hands.

  ‘How are you going to get me out of here?’

  He picked up his coffee. ‘I was thinking we might ambush the person who delivers our breakfast and then you could escape down the trellis in her clothes.’

  ‘Wh…’

  His mouth twitched and his dark eyes were laughing over the top of his coffee-cup. ‘I’m joking. I suggest we use the same way we came in.’

  ‘But, I don’t…’

  Marianne stopped speaking as the door to his private rooms opened and a uniformed member of staff wheeled in a trolley. She turned back to look at him, expecting to see…Well, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t to see him calmly putting his coffee-cup back down on the table.

  ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d want for breakfast so I asked for a selection,’ he said, exactly as if having breakfast with a women in his private rooms was a normal occurrence.

  Which, of course, it might be for all she knew. Even discounting fifty per cent of what she’d read over the last few years, Seb wasn’t a hermit and his opportunities were broader than most. From her perspective that made this whole thing so much worse. She just wanted to wake up again and find this had been a bad dream.

  She answered the woman’s rapid German in a faltering version of her own, settling on toast for no other reason than she was too embarrassed to look properly.

  Every instinct was encouraging her to bury her face in her hands and cover her head with the starched white tablecloth. She felt exactly as she had when her father had caught her caught her kissing her first boyfriend after the school disco.

  Seb appeared entirely comfortable with this whole situation. He made his own selection from the breakfast trays, talked easily and oozed sophisticated charm.

  ‘Everyone will think I’ve slept here,’ Marianne said as soon as the door closed behind the maid.

  Seb picked up his coffee again. ‘You did.’

  ‘But I’d prefer it if everyone didn’t know that. They’ll think you and I…’

  Marianne trailed off helplessly. Seb knew perfectly well what conclusions his staff would leap to. He didn’t need her to spell it out.

  ‘Everyone who works here understands the need to be discreet.’

  Which wasn’t the point! ‘That doesn’t mean they aren’t thinking it, only that they won’t say it.’

  He set his coffee-cup down. ‘I think you may be surprised what they’re thinking. I’ve never brought any of my female friends to Poltenbrunn.’

  She looked across at him, a spark of anger in her expressive eyes. ‘That’s not the point. I’ve got my professional reputation to look after. I don’t want my colleagues thinking that you and I are…’ She picked up her knife and smeared butter across her toast.

  Again that gleam of amusement. Sudden and unexpected. ‘Are?’

  Marianne put her knife down with a clatter. ‘Lovers. All right? I’ve said it. Lovers. I don’t want people thinking that I’m your lover.’

  ‘Why?’

&nbs
p; Her mouth moved wordlessly and then she said, ‘Been there, done that, don’t intend to do it again.’ She picked up her toast as though she was going to take a bite, but then put it back down again. ‘In my world, Seb, it’s not about whether or not you’re considered “suitable” or who your parents are—’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘And how would you know? Your entire experience of real life comes down to the five weeks you spent with me. That doesn’t exactly make you an expert on what “normal” people do or how “normal” people plan their lives.’

  Seb loved the way she did that. One moment she was delightfully confused, the next she was fiery and opinionated. ‘So you’re saying,’ he said mildly, ‘that your parents will be equally happy if you marry the drug-addict son of a convicted murderer as opposed to the lawyer son of their local doctor?’

  ‘That’s extreme and you know it.’

  He shook his head. ‘My life is extreme. I can’t afford to act without some thought.’

  ‘How romantic!’

  Seb smiled again. She looked the way he imagined a ruffled pigeon might. ‘No, it’s not romantic. The only time I’ve been free to do exactly as I wished was when I was with you. And that’s why you’re here.’

  As he said the words a frisson of awareness passed between them. It always did whenever they allowed themselves to remember what they’d once had together. Marianne’s eyes fell away and she looked down, apparently fascinated by the toast on her plate.

  Seb took a deep breath. This was it. This was the point at which he needed to try and put words on all the complicated thoughts he’d sat up all night thinking. And honestly, it scared the hell out of him. ‘How do you feel about me?’

  Her eyes flicked up. ‘I don’t really know you any more.’

  ‘Perhaps not. But I still need to know how you feel about me.’ He kept watching her, hoping, expecting her to say she still cared about him. ‘Marianne, it’s important.’

  ‘Why?’

  His mouth twisted into a wry smile. He should have known that this more mature and confident Marianne would throw his question back at him.